Dreams Of Fae And Scavenger Wings
by RaptureNRuin
Summary: Sometimes dark magic is the least of your problems.  After returning to the labyrinth years later, Sarah finds herself in the uncomfortable situation of hiding her identity from the Goblin King  and unintentionally enjoying his attentions. Jareth x Sarah
1. Scavenger

**Author Note: **My first Labyrinth fanfic ever. I'm not entirely sure if you guys will end up liking what I have here, but it's been bouncing around in my head for a while, so it's worth a shot. Reviews are awesome (and are also encouraged, seeing as how I'm uncertain about whether or not I should even continue with it)! Story takes place many years after Sarah's first venture into the labyrinth. I suppose I could explain how goblin tongue works in my mind for those of you that will be confused about certain elements, but I'll write up my thoughts on it next chapter, pending upon how well this one is received.

**Rating: **T (Currently, expected to involve adult stuff later.)

**Pairing Focus: **Jareth and Sarah

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Labyrinth or any of the characters and have no intention of making money off this fic.

Scavenger

_1_

One green, one blue. _Colors suited for a King_, she thought, almost flustered into submission by such a mesmerizing gaze. Heat rushed up her neck and settled stubbornly in her cheeks as her eyes met with his. Defiantly, she stared him down, knowing full well that even in the dim ballroom lights, he could discern her look as a challenge. That was the trick to besting the Goblin King: obstinacy. For all his grace, his dark charms, powerful magic and wicked intelligence, he could not stand to see an opponent on equal footing with his own stubborn nature. She had beaten him once already and almost smiled at the distant memory. How many other mortal women held her record for defeating the labyrinth and its master? _Some of them would kill for this_, a thought whispered. She pushed a few conflicting emotions out of her mind. He wanted to dance again.

"I'm afraid, your Majesty, that I must decline." Sarah's voice didn't falter or squeak as she expected it might – Jareth was intimidating – but he was more than daunting wasn't he? _Dangerous_, she thought, flushing again at the wild images invading her mind. The problem with meeting the Goblin King face to face now was that she began to see him through an adult perspective, and not through the eyes of a frightened teenager, a child hoping to fix a stupid mistake and win back her baby brother. Was it beginning to affect her judgment? Yes. But there was something to be said about being this close to the Goblin King without his knowing who she was or why she was here; it certainly made it easier for her to focus on him and not on what she should be doing.

For instance, her eyes were drawn to places they shouldn't be wandering. The white shirt he wore was loose and open up near the collar, revealing more chest than honestly necessary, and sometimes her eyes caught on the hardened muscles in front of her as if she had forayed right into a trap. A gorgeous ebony coat hung over his shoulders, the inside of which glinted a perfect shade of silver. The whole coat trailed far down to the top of his boots and his dark pants complimented the colors nicely. Pity he seemed so vexed – anger skewed her view of him so that he was less of something to admire and more of something to be wary of. The difference between a pampered peacock and a feral lion. It was particularly amusing to note that unruly mane of hair and compare him with the latter.

"Jareth," he corrected, interrupting her train of thought and scowling down at her while his eyes narrowed. How many times was this now? Again and again she escaped his grasp, and again still he found her roaming around free in his kingdom. Something about her voice clicked in his memory, the familiarity was uncanny. But he could not for the love of him pull the damned thought from his mind. Who in the blasted hell was she? His eyes travelled down, brows furrowing as a rush of frustration boiled his blood to a near breaking point. "Not a wise decision," he said, smirking down at her. It was almost difficult to believe that this woman was so small and demanded so much of his attention. The problem was she was shrouded in mystery, and as the Goblin King, the sole master of illusions and trickery, she managed to outwit him on far too frequent a basis for it to remain tolerable.

He could not even see her face. Beyond a few feminine features hiding behind the thick, high collar of her coat and a heavy hood that concealed most of her from him, there was little but her size, the sound of her voice and the softer curves of her body that gave her away as a woman at all. With equally dark pants and boots, from a distance she was nothing more than a shadow. Each time he met her eyes – they were a sharp, intelligent cinnamon color – he felt a whiplash of magic strike out at him like a snake. It gave him a smarting headache and pissed him off for hours on end. How dare she throw magic at him when _she _was the intruder in his kingdom? This was the third time he had come across her in the past few weeks, always at night and again, magic poured from her in unrelenting waves. She likely assumed it would be easier to slip away from him in the darkness, but she had no idea how deep his magic was in these lands, how much more powerful he was then her.

But was it her specifically? His eyes flickered temporarily over his shoulder to the goings on of the ballroom. Hundreds of guests were in his castle walls tonight, and most of them were out on the floors, enjoying his food and wine, reveling in the music, trading dance partners and taking full advantage of his temporary hospitality. In fact. He was beginning to grow bored with every single one of them.

Except for one.

He found her lounging outside on the balcony, watching the guests in the ballroom from a distance. The longer he observed her antics, the angrier he became. He knew that magic kept most of her features and face covered in thick darkness, no matter how much light was in a room. (In fact, the more light there was, the harder it became to discern anything from her.) He wore leather gloves on both of their encounters before, but this time he left them behind on purpose, so he could sense her power himself, without anything to impede the process. But upon confronting her and pouring the usual charm into his gestures and talk, he realized she was not a meek kitten to be coaxed into the light. He offered her a dance and she turned him down instantly. It was of course, a ploy to get her closer and thereby grant him further access to her magic, but he had to admit. He would rather enjoy whipping that hood back and finding out just who she was.

But no. She refused him. Instead he was left to gauge her from the small distance that separated them.

The mystery woman was leaning close against the banister of his balcony as if she would jump if he took a step towards her. It was not the first time she did something so ridiculously stupid. He wouldn't hurt her – at least not much, but he still felt as if he owed her a few vicious migraines- and yet she insisted on leaping into dangerous situations to get away from him. The first night he came across her, she sprinted into the heart of the labyrinth (and disappeared, an impossible and unbelievable outcome). Most would consider her mad for going in willingly. There were many aspects to his famous maze that even he considered to be dangerous – it was his magic that made them so. He did not bother to scour the Kingdom for her again, just attempted to track her progress through the maze, but always, her magic barred her from the all seeing eye of his labyrinth and therefore, from himself. Days passed with no further sightings. He expected to find a body not long after – tragic, considering he wouldn't just kill her if she stayed to speak with him. But even this wasn't so.

He found her _again _when that same week was almost over. The goblins complained of a shadow that haunted their dreams at night and stalked them as they went about their duties. They would not shut up for hours, some of the braver, stronger creatures complaining nonstop about how the creature terrified them so. He could not believe the woman in front of him was the source of their pain –she was too meek- but her appearance in the wine cellar of his castle a few nights later set him on edge. It was rare he go down there, but as fate would have it, he decided fetching his own damned drink was preferable to sitting in his study and listening to another round of goblin problems. That time _he _almost killed her. She was slinking around down there and the instant he felt her strange magic pulse in the damp darkness he unleashed some of his own in her direction. Had she not bolted from a corner and nearly bowled him over for the stairs, he wouldn't have reacted so badly, but he was beginning to lose his temper and patience.

And now she was threatening to jump over the damned balcony. "Are you so afraid of me you would jump to your death?" He asked, genuine curiosity lacing with his aggravation. Even if she fell, he doubted she would really die, but he was amused at how she stiffened under such a question, as if she hadn't thought of it before. "You shouldn't be here, Duvessa. And I know you know it."

"Duvessa?"

"I have to call you something," he retorted, brows furrowing again. His eyes were drawn to wide arches of magic that skittered off of her coat and glittered faintly in the air. Whether she noticed them or not, she gave no sign, but what bothered him was the colorlessness of her magic. He could not see it outright, he had to visualize it and feel the energy surges for himself. But at least he felt a spike in those chaotic pulses when he called her something. A name was the most powerful thing you could give someone, and now that he had given her one, it might make it easier to persuade her away from the balcony. Magic seeped through his words as he spoke. "Come away from there before you fall, little one."

She shook her head. "I kind of like it over here. You just. You stay there."

Jareth drew in a deep breath, refusing to lose his temper with her and using as many persuasive spells as he knew to force her away from the balcony. "You wound me by assuming I would hurt you so." Part of him childishly wanted to leave her to her own stupidity. _If she wants to jump off the balcony, let her_, it hissed. But this would be the third time she risked death instead of confront him properly, and he refused to let her get away again.

"Your reputation precedes you then, Goblin King." His eyes narrowed at her dry tone. "I know you are not as charming as you seem."

"Duvessa, you are treading on dangerous ground." The persuasive spells dropped from his voice instantly. They obviously weren't working on her and that was infuriating to no end. He suspected her chaotic magic had something to do with it, interfering with his own when he normally expected no obstacles whatsoever.

"What does that mean?" She asked.

He cocked a brow. "The name or what I just said?"

"The name," she said warily. "I heard you just fine."

His anger had the better of him and he sneered at her. "Wretch." It didn't of course. Duvessa was goblin speech. Often enough when he traveled to the Aboveground he found bastardized versions of the ancient tongue everywhere. Meanings were confused and mixed up. Here, in the Underground, Duvessa meant "beautiful dark". It was meant to flatter her a little, but obviously she didn't belong to the fae kingdoms because she didn't know it, and this was an interesting tidbit of information. He knew she didn't belong in _his _Kingdom, but to say she belonged nowhere…that was very interesting indeed.

"Kind of you," she bit out.

"My patience is growing thin with you," he took a step towards her, hoping to pull her physically from the edge but she swerved on her feet and placed one thick boot up on top of the banister. Her hands were against the cold stone as if preparing to jump. "Enough," he said, exasperated and furious. "I have no intention of killing you." But he had half a right mind to shove her off the ledge himself.

"But you have intentions?" She countered, her entire body rigid.

"Merely to ask how you snuck into my Kingdom without my knowledge." His jaw set as he watched her shoulders square off. "And how you continue to elude me." Her back was turned, and though he preferred not to startle her and have her jump, he considered trying to grab her now, while her attention was elsewhere. Quietly, he took another step towards her. She gave no notice. "What exactly are you doing in my Kingdom?"

"I cannot say," she whispered.

Confound this woman! Magic burned below his calm exterior. "You are trying my hospitality. I could have killed you a number of times if I deemed it necessary."

"But you won't."

Oh? His brow rose again, but that was the last straw. He reached out for her as she turned to face him. He saw her brown eyes flicker with something like fear as his fingers brushed the soft material of her coat. He was surprised to realize it was smoother than silk and not exactly black as he had thought. Up close he could see hundreds of subtle colors meshing and rolling together in the fabric, never a single shade or hue. In fact, the iridescent quality was distinctly oil like, and as his fingers dug into the material at her shoulder, he felt her slipping from his grasp anyway. At first he didn't understand. He had a tight hold of her and could haul her from the balcony, but the opportunity to do so never arrived. One second he was staring into her eyes, her magic meshing with his as they clashed for dominance, and the next she was…shrinking.

He yanked back out of confusion, but all that came with his hand was a mesh of soft black feathers – not the woman. In fact, she went tumbling over the edge and he scrambled to grab her before she fell to the ground. But she wasn't herself anymore. A small, pitiable black crow took her place and he barely missed her as she spun dismally towards the ground.

* * *

How in world did this happen?

Sarah's heart was racing a million miles per second while she struggled to get her new body parts to work correctly. How did wings even work? She flapped miserably, struggling to right herself first so that she could face the ground before she hit it – and she _would _hit it, because she didn't know how to fly. Each wing beat caused her body to twist in a new direction, but she never truly managed to straighten out and slow down. Granted, she tried really hard to avoid the inevitable –birds made it look so easy - but she still smacked into the ground at a blinding pace, a piercing _crack _echoing in her ears while the smell of dirt and grass flooded her senses.

She spent a long time just lying there motionless, exhaustion biting at all the muscles in her body and her brain swimming in a mess of thoughts. How and why were amongst the biggest questions. In the few weeks since returning to Jareth's labyrinth, she had never turned into anything. In fact, the only magic she knew of belonged to the coat, and she couldn't exactly remember how she had come across it. Something told her it was absolutely imperative that she didn't lose it or take it off, but she couldn't remember why. And now, of all the times for it to pull a nasty trick (she should have known better, here in the Underground nothing was every easy or nice, ditching the coat would have been much simpler at this point), it did this. Right when she needed to get away from Jareth, and fast.

Could she even get up right now?

She breathed out a low caw, blinking dirt from her eyes as she struggled to get to her feet. She was upset to realize how small she was in spite of the changes. The coat didn't turn her into just any crow when he grabbed at her, it turned her into a scrawny, tiny crow. A small thrill shot up her back, ruffling her feathers as her eyes peered up at the balcony she fell from, heart still tripping lightly in her chest. When he grabbed her like that, she felt the heaviness of his hand and the warmth of his magic at the same time. Two very conflicted feelings surfaced in that moment and they still swirled around in her head, popping in and confusing her again as she examined how far she fell. She practically froze as she craned her neck back and met his gaze.

From here she could see his lips moving, but his words must have been filled with contempt, because his gaze was neither kind nor relieved. Sarah even shuddered as he started to laugh, black feathers drifting from his fingers as he relaxed the hand that used to hold her. An earsplitting _pop _resounded from the balcony and her stomach clenched as the Goblin King vanished. He was _so angry. _

Well. If she were in his shoes and just as petulant as he was, she would be angry too. How many times had she managed to run from him now? This time really didn't count, seeing as how she couldn't exactly fly away, but it still mattered. Eventually, the coat and this magic would wear away, and she would be able to revert back into a human form, but until then, she needed a place to hide. Before she could do anything about it though, a gnarled pair of hands clamped around her middle. Pain rippled through her right side. It was so terrible that a mosaic of colors burst behind her eyes and sent the world spiraling into darkness for a moment.

"Notchy caught a birdy!"

Sarah was dimly aware that such a high pitched, childish and scratchy voice could only belong to a goblin. As her senses reeled and the pain ebbed into a dull throb, she realized she was caged in the hands of a very young one at that. His enormous green ears kept pricking back and forth while his amber colored eyes examined her. His hands gripped her awfully hard, and she noted how leathery they felt and how close his long nails came to pricking her skin.

_My day just keeps getting better and better, _she thought, trying not to cry out as he started jumping up and down. The pain came back, so heavy and thick she wished she could just pass out and forget about it, but every movement from her captor seemed to make it worse. Sarah's stomach began to churn as he hopped around in joyful circles, not helping her mood, or the massive amount of pain rolling through her right side. When she could take it no more, she squawked, essentially begging him to stop with her mind.

A familiar earsplitting _pop _split the air a moment later and the goblin stopped dancing around immediately.

"Uh oh," he drawled, shrinking back like a child while Sarah opened her beak in a heavy pant. Why in the hell did it hurt so much? She tried to lean more on her left side to relieve the agonizing pressure on her right, but Notchy whipped his hands behind his back, making her dizzy as he hid his prize from the Goblin King. Not that it mattered. She missed the first thing Jareth said, but almost as soon as he said it, Notchy flinched. "Notchy found the birdy first!"

"And he had better hand her over," Jareth snapped. Sarah could tell he was still in a foul mood. She wondered grimly what had taken him so long to get down here, and almost clapped her beak in anger at the thought that he had taken his merry time about it. Feeling as if it was now or never, she kicked out feebly with a clawed foot at her captor's wrist, but she couldn't reach his skin.

"But…" Either Notchy really was disappointed and wanted to keep her, or was feigning it very well. "But Notchy found…f-found the birdy." Jareth was being a jerk probably, as per usual, and glaring at the poor little guy. Eventually, Notchy would crack and hand her over, and Sarah honestly didn't think that was a good idea. She made a fast decision and snapped her beak over one of the goblin's fingers. He dropped her with a squeal and she landed on her bad side, squawking painfully.

Jareth snarled something she didn't quite understand, but from his tone she could tell it wasn't very nice anyway. She scrabbled for a good hold in the dirt with her feet, but as she stood again, she swayed, leaning more to the right than the left. It took some effort, but she turned to look at her right wing and what she saw made her sick to her stomach. The wing was halfway open and twisted badly. There weren't any bones poking through the skin anywhere, but she was certain it was broken, and the fall earlier would have done it. It certainly explained the unsettling cracking noise she heard when she hit the ground. Now that she knew about it, it seemed to throb with more purpose.

"Come here." Sarah jumped at how close Jareth was now, his fingers brushing against her uninjured side. His touch sent familiar chills down her back and before he could grab her completely, she swatted at his hand with her good wing and fluttered backwards a few feet, diving into a nearby bush to get away. He cursed wildly, his voice so loud that she shrank back into the shadows of the bramble. "Enough!"

Her head spun momentarily as the air around her thickened. Before she could think of what to do, the protective hedge with all its burrs and thick branches began to snake away from her. The entire hedge parted and she almost squeaked to find herself sitting in the middle of empty space again, the bushes leaning off to the sides. Looking up, she met Jareth's cold gaze. Her feathers bristled, but she didn't move. "You'll break your other one at this rate," he growled, some of the anger fading as he knelt down to pick her up. He was as careful as he could be and Sarah watched him with meek confusion as he scooped her up into his hand. His gentleness was like a foreign concept to her, but if he noticed how baffled she was by his behavior, he gave no sign. Without a word, he tucked her gently into the crook of his arm against his chest, wise enough to leave her right wing exposed to the air and not crushed against his side.

"Clever of you. Turning into a bird when you don't know how to fly," he commented dryly. Frustration seeped through his tone while heat rushed from her chest to her head. She thought to snap at his fingers as his free hand drew close, but a soft, recognizable croon entered his voice and made her hesitate. "Where did you learn such magic, little one?" Not only did he see fit to pour some magic into his words, but Sarah's breath caught as his fingertips brushed through the sensitive feathers under her throat.

_Wh-what is he doing? _

Sarah shivered as her body relaxed, his fingers circling around to her rest between her shoulder blades. She would have whimpered if she could have. Even though his touch was delicate at best, when he paused between her shoulders like that, pain rippled up through her right wing. Jareth only shushed her when she made a noise in an attempt to warn him. At first she thought he was going to torment her for a bit – that was more his style anyway – but those thoughts were instantly quelled as warmth spilled from his fingertips and over her back.

* * *

There wasn't much he could do about the broken wing.

Jareth glowered at the injury while he poured magic into her small body. He was still furious with her for jumping in the first place –it took a special kind of idiocy to turn into a bird when you couldn't fly- but the damage was done and there was little he could do to change it. In fact, the longer he mulled over the situation the more he thought it was a suitable punishment for her foolishness. Medicinal herbs and rest would help it heal with time, but shape shifting back into her normal body would put her through undue amounts of stress and pain. Some of the fracture would heal in the process as bones and muscles reformed and enlarged in the proper places, but it would still hurt, and no amount of magic would be able to numb it entirely.

Even more intriguing – the fact that she _could _shape shift.

His eyes narrowed as he trailed his fingers over her broken wing with the utmost care. She trembled fitfully and he knew it must hurt, but maybe it was more than just the gentle caress that bothered her so. He could still feel magic pulsing out of her body and meshing with his own, but again he found himself unable to see it. He could do nothing but work blindly around it. Jareth supposed that the same exasperation he felt for the task, she felt too. Magic could be as stubborn as the individual controlling it, and with a spirited creature like her, it became particularly obnoxious and difficult to work with. At times he saw her cringe – no doubt her injury was part of the problem- but it always happened when their magic refused to mix together peacefully. His brow furrowed as entire minutes ticked by with no progress. He meant to help ease the pain, not give her more to worry about.

And yet her weakened state and their quarreling magic fed him more information about her than she was likely willing to reveal on her own. First and foremost: that she was mortal. Only powerful fae could master an ancient art as complicated as shape shifting – even at its simplest levels, it took years to learn. Yet the magic that clashed with his own had the taste and aura of a mortal being, not exactly a typical denizen in the Underground.

"Impossible," he hissed.

Mortals had no magic, especially here, in _his_ realm. Yet, right to the contrary, here she was, defying every known natural law.

"C-can Notchy have birdy back now?" A squeaky voice picked up behind him. Jareth slid his gaze slowly over his shoulder towards the small goblin, who promptly flinched. "Or Kingy can keep..b-birdy. Notchy go find another one..?" The enormous bat ears that framed his face fell back as his confidence shattered. Jareth's lips twitched in a bemused smirk before he glanced down at the bundle of black feathers cradled in his arm. His mystery woman no longer seemed to care about what was going on around her. She was mentally and physically exhausted, always jerking herself awake again when her eyes began to close.

"Something you _can _do," Jareth said, frowning down at the bird in his arms as he turned to face the goblin, "fetch Matthias and tell him to meet me in my study." When the creature didn't move, his brow furrowed. "Well?" The goblin jumped, babbling nonsense before scrambling off through the dark. Jareth noticed irritably that he ran off in the wrong direction. He would have to grab Matthias himself if he wanted his counsel. In the meantime, Jareth drew his eyes back up to the balcony she fell from. As expected, a few of his ballroom guests were there now, carefully avoiding his gaze as they returned to the dance floor. No doubt, murmuring amongst themselves about the strange customs of the Goblin King and the company he kept. His Kingdom was the only one amongst the fae that welcomed unwanted, pitiable creatures like goblins and gave them a place to live. Naturally, during festivities, most of the Labyrinth's inhabitants kept to the darker areas of the palace and stayed out of the guest's way. They did this so well that Jareth actually enjoyed himself when a guest inadvertently wandered the halls, drunk from too much wine and screamed at a passing goblin in the dark.

This was different, however. The rumors would circulate for weeks, particularly if any of his visitors managed to see what happened on the balcony or happened to see her, before she changed into a bird.

"Such a hassle, Duvessa." He lowered his voice to a near whisper, a slow grin spreading across his face as he summoned up a portal. She stiffened in the crook of his arm. "I look forward to your explanation." He stepped through, his laugh carrying through the castle yard before they disappeared with a loud pop.


	2. Duvessa

**Author Note: **I have to apologize for the long wait. When I first finished this chapter, I meant to put it up and then my computer crashed, which led to me losing it completely. So, I had to rewrite it. It's taken so long because I've wanted to work out a lot of kinks in the story before continuing it. (I'm still working things out) but here it is, all shiny and new (again) for you guys. I hope to continue it. Many thanks for all of the encouraging reviews! You guys really made me happy. xD I hope you enjoy this chapter as well. Just an offhand note: I'm also halfway through Chapter 3 for you guys. ^^ Thanks ahead for any and all reviews!

**Rating: **Still T. A smidgeon of adult type stuff hints though for like, two seconds. o3o In a dream.

**Disclaimer: **Nope. I don't own Labyrinth.

Duvessa

_2_

"Fascinating," a low voice breathed above her.

Sarah slumped her head miserably against the soft hands of the man Jareth gave her to ten minutes ago. Her wing still throbbed painfully and now she had a headache to compound the problem. Worse: she missed Jareth, and that was frustrating. _His_ hands were lukewarm and soothing, gentle but firm. She could recognize the taste of his magic and though she wasn't entirely happy about the bits of Jareth's spells that seeped through her feathers, body and mind, she felt much more secure with him. The Goblin King knew how to handle his dangerous magic, and by all accounts, she was more accustomed to it. This new man –Matthias- had the hands of an eager and curious scientist and it made her nervous. His magic was nothing like Jareth's - Matthias' pricked and prodded at her like a needle, precise and sharp. His magic was cold and clean.

_Calculated_, a thought at the back of her mind whispered.

She chanced a look up at him while a few of his fingers hovered over her broken wing, but cringed as his magic pierced through her injury. "Apologies, my lady," he said, though he beamed down at her, far too excited to mean it as he withdrew his magic. There was a tone in his voice, and Sarah wondered if Matthias was mocking her with the title. Matthias leaned back in the chair that had been offered to him by Jareth, carefully sliding her out of his hands and onto the desk in front of him. He reached up to run a hand through his black hair as she lay her head down on a book next to her, exhausted. If she had been paying closer attention, she might have recognized him from the ball, but at the moment, she skimmed over his features wearily.

Jareth was only Fae who mattered anyway.

Earlier, Matthias had taken off the elaborate, blue coat he wore to the dance and draped it over the back of his chair. The silver colored embroideries and markings that lined the sleeves and hems still stuck out in her mind. Like all the Fae, there was an element of mystery about him that lingered at the center of his glacier colored eyes, but that element wasn't half as potent as Jareth's. He and Matthias were about the same height, but Matthias was lanky, almost frail looking in comparison. His only intimidating aspect was the threat of the wicked intelligence brimming at the back of his soft gaze. Like his magic, Matthias had a sharp appeal and a clean look: not a stitch was out of place.

Sarah found herself intrigued most by the gold rimmed monocle positioned over his right eye. There, the markings that were embroidered on his coat matched the black lines and runes tattooed into the skin around that eye. The ink lines in his skin were so precise that at first, it didn't seem odd. Even the monocle's glass flickered with an iridescent quality from time to time, but it didn't attract so much attention to himself. When he first came in, the monocle was there, but the markings were not. Obviously, there was some deeper magic going on that she couldn't figure.

She blinked at him now that she saw them. It almost seemed as if those lines moved across his skin, writhing in tune to a beat she couldn't recognize.

"Before I came in, what were you doing with her?" Matthias asked, drawing her out of her thoughts as his eyes darted across the room and towards a wide, arching window. She followed his gaze and remembered: Jareth was still here, he was just being eerily broody and quiet. He might have been watching over the labyrinth from his position near the window, his arms crossed over his chest, but as he slid his gaze in their direction, settling on her, she realized he hadn't been thinking about the ball, his guests, or his precious labyrinth. He was thinking about _her_, and now he was highly aggravated by the suggestive question. Some of her feathers bristled in discomfort. Maybe it was just her –and that had some interesting implications that she needed to think about later- but he affected her far too easily with a look.

"Nevermind," Matthias sighed, his blue eyes resting on Sarah again as she blinked up at him. "I meant no offense; I merely wanted to inquire where you found such an interesting creature. That, and after studying her I have a theory as to why she's in the predicament that she's in. Still, rather strange, isn't it?" His tone dripped dark amusement. "A mortal woman with magic. Fae magic, even. No wonder you're keen to have your questions answered. I'm curious myself."

"You can either tell me what you know about it or I can force you to leave," Jareth said. His voice was low and dangerous, eyes narrowed and brow furrowed. Clearly, the Goblin King was in no mood for games.

Sarah shrank a bit next to the book. As the subject of this wonderful conversation, she wasn't sure it was a good idea to make herself anymore noticeable than necessary. In the ten minutes since he handed her over to Matthias, something had happened to frustrate the hell out of him. This new mood of his aggravated her to no end, but she was also terrified. Suddenly she was reminded that he was in fact, the _Goblin_ King. The gentleness that betrayed his gestures earlier were just a façade. Sarah was surprised that some part of her was disappointed. Really now, she'd thought she had enough surprises the first time she wound up in the labyrinth – and that time, she'd been invited.

"Very well." If Matthias was annoyed by Jareth's tone or worried, he gave no notice. "Your prize isn't in control of her magic, which unfortunately complicates the situation." He moved to rest his chin in his hand as he leaned back in the chair, elbow on the arm rest. Jareth made no move or sound. From his indifference, Sarah guessed the Goblin King might have already come to this conclusion. "Have no fear, I can change her back. But you should know her magic is unstable at best. This coat you described… I don't think-"

"And the pain?"

Matthias blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"When she changes back it's going to hurt," Jareth said, each word slow and deliberate. His lips tugged up in the bare traces of a smug smile, but the emotion passed very quickly. Sarah looked up again, tilting her head a bit to hear better. There was a strange pause as he met her gaze and a shiver climbed down her back. It was too damn hard to peg down his tone. One minute he was angry, the next he said something that made her think he actually cared. Ever the player, the Goblin King. She was sure though, that there was a note of teasing in his voice, as if Jareth thought she deserved to feel some pain.

"Ah." Matthias finally smiled again. His dark eyes glinted while he drummed a few fingers against the surface of the desk. Sarah thought that the look on his face withheld a bit of mischief. "Don't worry. Your pet will be in good shape once I change her back. Arm will still be broken, but I'll be able to tend to the break a lot easier." He dropped his other hand away from his face, raising a brow. "But there's nothing I can do for the pain until she's out of this form. I'd invite you to look for yourself, but you've probably noticed. That coat of hers." He raised a hand to finger the monocle over his right eye carefully. Sarah flinched as he looked down at her, his magic piercing through to her core with a single look. She could feel him, rooting around for something in her mind, and it was extremely uncomfortable.

"It's no ordinary artifact. It amplifies her magic, makes her unpredictable. I think it's too much to handle for her, actually. No real surprise," he added. "Such delicate and fragile creatures, humans." He paused, considering her carefully and fingering the outer rim of his monocle. Finally, his magic relented and Sarah released a breath of air she was holding in. Her feathers started to settle back down against her skin. Whenever his magic touched her, they had a tendency of rising, as if offended. "I have to wonder where she found such an object. It's obviously suited for a Fae, not a mortal girl."

_I don't know_, she thought bitterly. For the life of her, she couldn't remember. The damn thing was causing her more trouble than she deemed it was worth, too.

Matthias reached out, his cold hands plucking her up from the desk again. She was getting tired of being carted around from one person to the next, but tensed a moment later as he set her down on the stone floor in the middle of the room. There was a cold draft at this level, and she shivered. What was he doing?

Worse than the cold, from down here, everything in Jareth's study was enormous and intimidating. Stacks of books, thick silver cobwebs, the furniture, _Jareth_. The last thought made her hesitate. Her eyes fell upon him warily, focusing on his mane of hair because he wasn't looking at her. It was all –Jareth included- a little scary and threatening, and she was too nervous to sit still as Matthias stepped away from her. Some part of her expected a goblin to pop out from between the sloppily arranged stacks of books or leap from a dark corner to grab her again. She stood awkwardly, her talons scratching against the stone floor, her bad wing still bent at an unhealthy angle. It throbbed pitifully.

She peered up at Matthias, but from this angle the shadows across his face gave him that familiar, mad scientist look she recognized earlier. Only, he was grinning this time, a very cattish smile which unnerved her. It didn't help that Jareth growled out the word, "Gentle," as if something really, really terrible was about to happen and Matthias could make it a lot worse. In fact, she took a step towards the Goblin King because honestly, she would rather deal with an evil she already knew about than deal with a new one. But she wasn't even halfway through that step when a wave of that piercing cold magic that belonged to Matthias sent stabbing pains through her side. He had one hand raised, fingers curled and occasionally twisting as he directed his magic.

The pain was unbearable. Her vision burst with color before she blacked out, a scream filling her ears. His magic burrowed through her body from a hundred different places and each one erupted in pain, as if he had taken a knife and stabbed her, and then had the audacity to start twisting the blade. She felt like lashing out at him. Hurting him. Maybe even running. _Anything_, as long as it stopped. As it was, the stabbing sensation receded, quickly replaced by a very rough and relentless pull – the kind of agonizing tug she imagined an animal would feel if it were being skinned alive. Her body burned.

And then she couldn't take it anymore. Her chest heaved as her throat caught, a hoarse yell ripping from her throat. "_Stop it!_" And just like that, the magic whipped away from her body and some of the pain faded. She scrambled to get up and away before it could happen again, but the minute her right hand touched the floor, she yelped. She might not have been a bird anymore – and her mind registered the dark sleeves of her coat and her body numbly – but her arm was still broken. She hissed between her teeth at the agonizing pressure on the break, kneeling against the floor and cradling her arm, trying hard not to pass out or cry from lingering bouts of pain that rolled through her body. She trembled constantly.

Matthias was still grinning.

"There's your pet," he said, pleased. "Not nearly as difficult as I thought it would be to change her back. I tried to be gentle," he added with slight apology, "but her magic is overbearing and stubborn. You really ought to do something about that. It's dangerous."

"That hurt," she snapped, cringing afterwards. Her voice was hoarse and her throat was dry, but her chest ached too. Wonderful. Her body wasn't content until _everything_ hurt. She focused on her arm, suppressing a pathetic noise at the bruising pain that rippled up her shoulder.

"Well, what did you expect?" Matthias breathed, laughing. "That's what happens with you mortals when you dabble with our things. You're lucky to be human again at all. That's at least one step above what you were a moment ago." She could feel his cold smirk, and suddenly, Sarah was almost certain she would have preferred Jareth's company over his, no matter the circumstances. She wondered, vaguely, if she knew Matthias. There seemed to be some sort of familiarity about the man, as if she should recognize his manners and smug way of speaking. But nothing came to her.

Jareth, on the other hand. She flushed, frustrated to see the Goblin King smiling down at her from across the room. She had experience with his ever-changing moods, but for some reason, she expected better of him. Maybe it was just the sole fact that she _knew _him, which put him on a pedestal above Matthias when she should really be just as angry and wary of him.

"Speaking of which," Matthias said beside her. She wasn't really sure when he had walked up behind her, but the grace of his fingers over her shoulder were unmistakable. Sarah might have melted involuntarily at _Jareth's_ touch (she blamed it on a lot of things, really) but Matthias caused her entire body to stiffen and reject him immediately. She wondered if the coat was responsible for some of the inherent disgust she felt. But it was at that exact moment that a spark of indignant energy flew from her to him, shocking his fingers and causing him to whip his hand back with a snarl. "You-" Sarah barely managed to see the color spread across his face – her vision whirled, giving her a headache. She was able to hear him though, quite clearly.

"Well then," he said. "Forgive me, my lady. But I must tend to your arm." The sarcasm that dripped from his words stung, but not nearly as much as the cold magic that barreled into her again and seared its way through her body. He might not have touched her this time, but she felt as if the wave of magic had more of a crushing attitude to it, as if he wanted to squeeze every drop of pain out of her before he let go. Her breath caught in her throat again, but a very unexpected name escaped her in the midst of a sharp, twisting pain that cascaded down her arm. Suddenly there was less of a pressure on her and she could breathe again, but Matthias' magic still burned faintly. She thought she heard Jareth move across the study room, but she was unable to confirm it. The world had turned black again, and this time, she lost herself in it.

* * *

"_Jareth," she breathed, her eyes widening as he stole an opportunity to deepen the kiss, a low purr issuing from the back of his throat. Her hand latched onto his shirt near his shoulder, knuckles white while her thoughts burst into a flurry of wild emotions. Their tongues clashed momentarily before he won her mouth, Jareth's eyes darkening in a flash of desire and passion. She managed only one other word as his arm around her waist tightened, and hers was soft and weak. "Wait." _

_His response was more of a growl, low enough to send a tremor down her back. "I think we've both waited long enough," he said, catching her lips again. Sarah took a step back and stumbled as her leg hit the end of his mattress. What happened to all that space a moment ago? She flushed as she realized he'd been leading her across the room and she'd willingly let him. She had to reach back to prevent herself from falling against the bed, her hand pressing into the soft blankets. Where was the coat's magic now? She was shocked to feel the hood lose some of its weight as if it meant to fall back, submitting to the man in front of her. Even stranger for her, _she_ was submitting. _

Sarah woke with a start, just as her back hit the mattress in her dream. Heat immediately rushed to her face, compounding her confusion while her mind attempted to filter in the details of her surroundings. Her fingers clung to the shabby bed below, but her eyes scanned the dusty, cobweb infected rafters above, ignoring how she had to catch her breath for a moment. Sunlight breached through a crack in a closed up window, spotting the cold stone floor in bits of light. A small wooden table lay beside her bed post, and on top of it sat a silver tray of bread, cheese and a bowl of something steaming hot. She sat up from her cot, noting how the room could be no bigger than a large closet. The bed creaked as she moved, and the crooked wooden door at the front of the room gave away her lodgings immediately. She wasn't in Jareth's palace. Or his room. Or his bed.

Sarah paused on the last thought, touching a few trembling fingers to her forehead as more heat traced its way up her body. _What in the hell was that about? _She shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts of any lingering _ideas_. She wanted the images cleared from her mind, and there came to be an excellent distraction in the food on the table next to her. Her stomach wheezed fitfully as she took a slice of bread up and the bowl. The latter was porridge of some sort or another, and it smelled as if it was loaded with butter. There was no spoon in sight – she doubted she'd be able to hold it straight anyway, not with that dream still flitting about at the back of her mind.

Why? Why would she _ever _think of something like that in her sleep?

Sarah distracted herself from answering by ripping off a chunk of the soft bread and dipping it into the porridge. Manners were the last thing on her mind right now. She realized, out of the corner of her eye, that she was still wearing her coat. The black silk flickered with an array of color as the sunlight peeking through the window hit it. Her hood was still up too. She felt the soft weight of it and saw it in her peripheral as she ducked her head and swallowed the first piece of bread. The rich taste of butter in the warm porridge and the light, sweet bread practically melted in her mouth. She hadn't expected the taste to be so rich, and finally, she was able to forget about the dream. Some small part of her laughed, amused. Jareth wouldn't be happy to know he'd been upstaged by breakfast. But then, Jareth was never going to find out she dreamed about him at all. Sarah focused only on eating until she cleaned the bowl, swiping a bit of bread against the empty sides to get whatever was left.

Memories started to come back to her, which sadly dampened the warmth and comfort the food gave her. She set the bowl back down, absently reaching for a slice of cheese. The latter she bit down into delicately, holding it between her teeth as she walked across the room to the window. The wooden shutters creaked as she opened them up, wincing as sunlight poured through.

Sarah could remember being in Jareth's study. Her eyes even narrowed a bit at the reminder that, they hadn't been alone. There had been someone else –Matthias, if she remembered his name correctly. The memory of his magic, so cold, precise and brutal, caused a shiver to roll up her back. She reached up after biting down on her piece of cheese, taking the rest of it from her mouth and observing that as she did so that her broken arm was fine. _He healed it_, she thought, staring at it and flexing her fingers. She followed up with a few more motions, twisting her wrist from side to side and then bringing her hand up close to her face. She felt a little stiff in her shoulder, but everything flowed smoothly. She was okay.

"I knew I heard movement," a smooth voice said from the front of the room. Sarah turned and paled at the sight of the creature that shoved the door open. He did so with a massive lion's paw, his claws curling into the wooden door and brushing it aside with a careless ease. The body that carried him in also belonged to a lion, but his face was clearly human. She watched him stalk into the room, his tail twitching like an annoyed cat. A pair of beautiful wings (which were sharp green on the surface, and colored a ruby red on the folded inside) offset the golden yellow color of his fur. "Never seen a sphinx, have you?" he asked, a laugh piercing his throat. He padded across the room, completely disregarding her as he eyed the table with the leftovers from her food. "I see you ate everything." Sarah was shocked by how tall he was. Another foot or so and he'd come up to _her _height at the shoulders. She had a thought to reach out and touch that soft seeming fur, but resisted the urge, embarrassed by it.

"I confess. I thought this place would have a little more…design to it," he said. He looked around the room, perusing what she imagined was all the shabbiness of the place before he shook his head. "There was once a time when all sorts of creatures crowded this place for a chance to live in it. But now…this is almost laughable." His dark brown hair, very much like a mane itself, bristled as if insulted.

"W…what do you mean?" Sarah frowned, taken aback, but at least happy that she had the strength to speak.

"I'll have you figure it out yourself first," he said, turning back to her. His stare fixed her. He had dark, ocean blue eyes, but the pupils of a cat made the beauty that much more grotesque. There was also a long and jagged scar across his face, hooking over his nose and marring some of that surreal beauty. Sarah shivered. "Come. I knew you would wake today. If you are able to walk, you are well enough to tend to the garden. And I should have you learn a thing or two, to make Jareth happy. You must see him, of course. After your chores." She was shocked to feel him lift a heavy paw towards her back, shoving her forward. His claws, enormous as they were, never touched her. He retracted them before they could, and instead, buffeted her forward with the enormous pads of his paw. "Go on. Outside with you. Questions can wait," he added when she opened her mouth.

Sarah was forced to step out into the open air, and she winced instantly as the sunlight hit her. Her eyes weren't accustomed to so much light, and it made her wonder just how long she'd been in that room. She glanced over her shoulder to see the sphinx sauntering out after her. The door behind him closed as if it had a mind of his own, but the whole room actually belonged to a small, insignificant shack. From the outside, the roof looked as if it was about to cave in, and the door seemed ready to fall off its hinges.

"I admit, I'm happy to see you ate most of your food. I thought for sure you might never wake up. You've spent the better part of a week here." His voice cut through her thoughts and dragged her back to the present again, where she had to ignore the small ache behind her eyes. The sun was bright and the warm air should have made her feel a little better. But instead of answering, her stomach clenched. She took the last bit of cheese still in her hand and ate it, chewing slowly. The great beast stalked around her, his tail curling through the air behind him until he paused, overlooking the garden in front of them. It was rather large and intimidating. She expected something small and manageable, but her eyes scoured over rows and rows of vegetables, melons and fruits in confusion. She glanced off to the right and practically balked. There was an enormous orchard, filled with who knew how many different types of fruit trees and shrubbery for blackberries and such.

"Is this a dream?" The question surfaced in a soft whisper. She had never seen this part of the Goblin Kingdom. Am I_ still in the Goblin Kingdom?_ She closed her eyes, and yet when she opened them, the scenery was still there. She could see no living thing besides herself and the sphinx, for miles. While she gawked, the latter sat back on his haunches, his tail thumping against the ground lightly.

"You're a strange one, aren't you?" He shook his head as she turned to look at him, bearing a smile. His teeth were sharp and pointed, so inhuman that it hurt to look at him. "No. This is not a dream. I suppose to one such as yourself, it must seem to be. Did you think the Goblin King owned absolutely nothing of value? He must feed his kingdom as well as any other ruler. What you see before you is just as much a part of the labyrinth as anything else. Most humans never get to see it." Sarah flushed, refusing to look at him for a moment. She did not mean to offend, or make herself look stupid.

"All of the labyrinth then," she said, trying to make up for it, "is beautiful. It's nice to know."

The creature threw back his head and laughed. "Beautiful! Why, to hear a human say that about _Jareth's _labyrinth. I never thought I'd see the day. Oh, you are an interesting one." He paused, his blue eyes resting on her again, pupils narrowing. "I have had a lot of fun puzzling out how I feel about you since he dumped you in my care. I do love riddles, and you have piqued my interest. But you should go now. I want you to clean the weeds from this section of the garden. It is the least you can do for my hospitality. Make sure to use your weak arm." He nodded towards the arm that had been broken once, and Sarah absently touched a few fingers to her shoulder.

He seemed respectable enough, but she could barely trust anything in the Goblin Kingdom. Jareth saw fit to leave her with this creature, and honestly, the Goblin King's decision could go either way with her. She gave in though as the sphinx pulled up to a solemn looking scarecrow with hay hanging halfway out of its extended arms and neck. A button was swaying loose from one eye, and his mouth was made up of a series of awkward placed stitches, so that the expression on his face was crooked. There was however, a raven perched quite happily on one of the arms, and it flapped its way down on top of the sphinx's shoulder as the creature passed.

She was reminded, painfully, of her situation. With no answers to any of her questions, this coat (which almost seemed to have a mind of its own), the uncontrollable magic involved with it, and the powerful creature Jareth had left behind to watch over her, her chances of remaining unnoticed in the labyrinth and finding a way home diminished rapidly. Funny, how easily she managed to avoid confrontation with the Goblin King for the better part of a week, only to have it ruined in less than an hour when he caught her at the ball.

She walked off towards the section of garden that the sphinx pointed out earlier, her mind racing as she dropped to her knees to start working. The sphinx did not come to bother her again while she lifted weeds out from the dirt, knowing the task was not done half as well as it should have been. She even scowled to see that her coat refused to get dirty. The soil merely washed off of her sleeves whenever dirt came to touch it. But the entire while, she struggled to come up with a solution to her problem. None came to mind. Except.

She paused in her work, raising her hand to the hood lowered over her head. Her fingers reached up and graced the fabric before she hooked them around the material. An immediate resistance met her as she tried to pull it back, down and out of the way. Finally, she relented, agitated. The coat had a mind of its own and didn't want to come off. Her fingertips had even gone numb with the minor magic that it used to keep her from removing it. She fought to convince herself that revealing her identity to the Goblin King probably wouldn't have been a good idea anyway. If he was pissed to see _Duvessa _strutting around in his Kingdom, she had no idea what he'd think of _Sarah._

For now, it seemed her identity would have to remain with the former. Jareth was pleased with it anyway. He seemed smug enough, insulting her up on the balcony.

"And here I thought you'd made some progress," the sphinx said, interrupting her train of thought. She was impressed to see such a massive creature sneak up on her so well- again. "You've never weeded a garden before, have you?" He smiled, his tail twitching out behind him. "No matter. I sent a message to the palace upon your recovery, and it seems you've been summoned earlier than expected. I'd rather not deal with Jareth in my orchards, so I'm taking you there now, to meet him. I hope you have had ample time to collect your thoughts." His smile faded as she rose to her feet, the look on his face almost pensive. "Follow me."

He led her back towards the shack, but they walked a ways beyond it. Out behind the house were what seemed to be, endless fields of wheat and grain. She paused for a moment to admire the view before following after the sphinx. What choice did she have, anyway? Every time she looked at the sphinx, she thought she saw the air around him pulse and waver. It wouldn't surprise her if a creature like that had magic at his disposal. Jareth probably wouldn't have left her with someone she could escape from easily. Nevertheless, as much as she tried to reassure herself, it was impossible not to worry. She wanted to avoid Jareth as much as possible.

"Here we are," the sphinx said, stopping. They had walked at least half a mile in some uncertain direction, and with her mind deep in thought and her eyes to the ground half the time, she hadn't really noticed where they'd been going. So she tensed a bit to see a dirt road in front of them and a horse drawn cart. There was some kind of goblin driver at the head of it, holding the reins delicately. Sarah was unsettled to see him turn to look at her, a serene smile on his face.

"Hello young lady," he said. His dark eyes were glassy and distant. He wore a tattered blue hat and plucked it from his head to make a half hearted bow. A matching scarf around his neck hung low over his body. Sarah made an attempt to return to the greeting, but her voice failed her. He seemed to be looking _through _her, not at her. She was unsettled by how distant his green eyes were and how easily he turned back to face the horses in front of him. His voice was too quiet. "A horse has been brought for her," he said, looking off to the side. Sarah's eyes flickered over to the sphinx, who was watching her closely as the mentioned animal walked around the cart and met her.

She gasped to see the animal's lips lift and reveal sharp teeth, but it bumped its nose against her chest as playfully as any _normal _horse might. Trust Jareth to have beautiful, but dangerous livestock in his kingdom. The horse was a stallion, actually, and a very striking dark brown with black legs and a dark mane and tail. His nostrils flared as he blew air gently into her face and nickered softly. She was happy to see he had a saddle on his back and reigns, but she was wary of climbing up. "His name be Icarus," the goblin said as she moved around to the horse's side. She ran her hands down the animal's neck, frowning.

"Do you know how to ride a horse?" The sphinx asked as she continued to hesitate. Sarah glanced over at him. Icarus did not seem the least bit bothered by the sphinx; in fact, his ears were perked forward in interest, his eyes cast towards the creature. She tried to communicate what she was feeling with a look. How would _he _feel if he had to face the Goblin King? Running away this time seemed almost impossible.

"My only advice is this," he said, watching her climb up into the saddle. Icarus stilled –nice of him- as she righted herself and sat up. It had been a long time since she'd been on a horse. The _amount _of time escaped her, but she knew that the experience had happened. Her head spun momentarily as she tried to grasp that memory. The sphinx's voice centered her. "Don't lie to him."

Ha! Sarah smiled bitterly as the creature turned away. She wondered, had her dream continued, if it would have been the first time Jareth discovered her identity. He was certainly not going to find out today.


End file.
